Page 3 of Hendrix

“I get my red hair gene from my great-grandmother Mimi,” I explained. “She was the black sheep of the family. Mimi was a flapper and used to go out dancing and drinking champagne in the speakeasies of Charleston. Scandalous, right?” I laughed softly. “The local drinking establishment was where she met my great-grandfather, Stanley. He defied his parents to marry her, but it worked out in the end because it turned out that Mimi’s family was filthy rich, even richer than Stan’s, and they merged their businesses to become a powerhouse in the finance industry.”

His fingers caught mine, and he squeezed. “You’re a rich girl?”

I laughed softly. “No. My family cut me off when I divorced my cheating ex.”

“A black sheep, just like Mimi,” he noted.

I laughed again. “Isn’t that incredible?”

His eyes flicked over my face, and his smile died. “Yeah, baby. It’s incredible, alright.”

It was obvious he wasn’t talking about Mimi, and I loved the way he put it all out there without a care in the world.

He laced our fingers together, opened his mouth, and proceeded to put it all out there again. “Do you feel that thing between us?”

My throat thickened with emotion, and I nodded, suddenly unable to speak because I felt it every time I looked into his clear, blue eyes, and it was heart-stopping.

“I want you. Have for a while,” Hendrix whispered fervently. “Probably more than any other women I’ve met. I lay in bed thinking about your smile, your voice” —he grinned lazily again— “your hair. But I dunno what I can offer you, Anna. My mind’s intact but still broken in ways even I can’t comprehend. I think I want somethin’, then I get it, and I still feel restless. My life’s been good, but the years have thrown shit at me that I’m still coming to terms with. It seems unfair to drag you down a path that may lead to heartache. The only thing I know is that I want you, so my question has to be, is that enough?”

My skin heated at the meaning behind his words.

I wasn’t a one-night stand kinda girl. I was a take me out, court me, slip a diamond on my finger, then choose a white dress kinda girl. My parents were conservative and raised me to be the same way. Except, I was trying to break away from that life. All the risks I’d taken up to that moment had paid off beautifully. I had a lucrative business, working a job I loved. A great apartment. Friends who were more like family, and I was happier than I’d ever been.

However, walking away from Hendrix at that moment would be akin to fighting the laws of nature. The feeling he gave me was unique and beautiful, and if I never experienced what it could lead to, I’d always wonderwhat if?

I’d get one night—maybe two if I was lucky, and I had to make sure I was good with that. I had to make sure I could continue walking through life knowing what I had in my hands was only for a fleeting moment and being okay with losing it because if Hendrix was the type of man I suspected he was, whatever we had wouldn’t result in nice dinners, a diamond, and a white dress.

But it would result in loss.

Of that, I had no doubt.

I must’ve taken too long to reply because before I knew it, I was being tugged from the stool, and Hendrix’s arm was sliding across my shoulders.

Pulling in a breath, I marveled at how deeply his warmth seeped into me, heating my insides and making my organs burn feverishly along with my skin. The effect he had on me burrowed bone deep, and I knew right then there’d never be anyone else like him for me.

He led me through the bar and out into the warm night air, walking us toward an ancient blue Ford, and it struck me how damned crazy it was that I was about to get into an old truck with a man I hardly knew.

Then, his muscled arm slid from my shoulders, and his hand trailed down my arm, clasping my fingers in his, and something else struck me deep.

Jameson ‘Hendrix’ Quinn could lead me straight to Hell, but for the life of me, I’d follow him gladly.

—————

“You feel like mine,” Hendrix whispered, his blue eyes shining down at me in the darkness while his hard, beautiful cock moved inside me.

My throat clogged with emotion because he felt like mine, too.

I brought up a hand and sifted it through his hair, stroking it back so I could memorize every inch of his face. If this was the only time I could have him, I wanted to remember everything.

His fingers slid around my ass and tilted it upward so he could drive his cock deeper. I moaned softly at the pinch of pain and the abundance of pleasure he freely gave, and my eyelids fluttered closed.

His forehead dipped and rested on mine as his cock drove into me over and over again, filling my pussy. “Eyes on me,” he rasped.

I obeyed and was immediately caught in a whirlpool of blue, my heart and mind spinning in their warm depths. Then his mouth hit mine, and our tongues tangled the same way our bodies were tangled in the crisp, cool sheets.

Pulling away, he moaned. “Fuck, Anna. Your pussy’s perfect for me.” He threw his head back, and I watched, fascinated, as the cords in his neck strained. His beard had been trimmed where it met his neck, and I smiled at the memory of how that very same beard gave me the most intense orgasm of my life not thirty minutes before.

He jerked his hips and pulled out before sitting back on his knees. His fingers curled around my hips, and he flipped me over, dragging me up to join him.

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